


Knife's Edge

by peacenik_jesus



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 15:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacenik_jesus/pseuds/peacenik_jesus
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "It's blood, not nuclear waste. Chill out."





	Knife's Edge

“Ah! Son of a…” Paul dropped his knife and grabbed his own hand, holding tight to keep pressure over the slice he’d just made on his palm while sharpening his blade. Blood was pooling in his hand, dripping off the side of his hand and onto the ground between his feet.

“You alright?” Daryl asked, looking from Jesus’ face to his hand with an odd grimace before he took a rag from his back pocket and held it out towards Jesus, the end of the cloth pinched between his fingers as if he didn’t want to get close to the other man’s blood.

Embarrassed that he’d cut himself in such a stupid way, Jesus rolled his eyes and snatched the rag, pressing it against the wound. “It’s blood not nuclear waste. Chill out.” Daryl held up his hands without a word, showing the blood and grim from the rabbit he was currently skinning, and Jesus flushed even further, realizing Daryl was trying to keep the rag as clean as possible so the wound didn’t become contaminated with more bacteria. “Oh. Right.”

“How deep is it?”

Jesus pulled the rag away, but more blood immediately pooled in his palm. “Pretty deep. Probably stitch-worthy.”

“Dumbass,” Daryl stuck the point of his blade into ground and wiped his hands on the legs of his pants before he got up and started to rifle through one of his bags. When he returned he had a canteen in one hand and a package of ZipStitches and gauge wrap in the other. He knelt down in front of Jesus, putting the package of wound closures and gauze on the ground next to him as he reached for the other man’s hand. “Who the hell taught you to sharpen your knives like that?”

Jesus watched the man clean the wound with water, washing the blood away before he pressed the cloth back down on the cut. He winced slightly at the pressure the other man was putting on it, but knew it was necessary. “Don’t lecture me, Daryl. I’ve sharpened my knives like this a million times without cutting myself.”

“Yeah?” The man looked up at him through a curtain of dirty hair. “So why’d you cut yourself tonight?”

Heat rose to his cheeks. He had been paying more attention to the way Daryl looked in the light of the campfire, than what he was doing, but he couldn’t admit that. “I…The knife slipped.”

“Mhm,” the archer was obviously unconvinced, but didn’t press the issue. “Hold this,” he instructed, placing Jesus’ other hand over the rag while he fished out one of the ZipStitches. He readied the bandage, knowing the wound would continue to bleed a little until it was closed, then nudged Jesus’s hand and the rag away. He put the bandage over the cut, pressing the adhesive down on either side of it and pulling the zip tie-like closures until the edges of the wound were together. Using Jesus’ knife, he cut the excess length of zips away. Finally, he wrapped Jesus’ hand in the gauze wrap to keep the wound protected.

“Thanks,” Jesus murmured, offering the blood-soiled rag back to Daryl.

The man eyed it for a minute, then shook his head. “Keep it. Might come in handy the next time your ‘knife slips.’”

There was a quality to the words that suggested Daryl knew exactly what happened, and the heat returned to Jesus’ cheeks as he watched Daryl sit back down to resume his task. For the briefest of moments, the archer’s eyes met his and Paul could have sworn there was a ghost of a smirk pulling at Daryl’s lips.


End file.
